


drive

by atomicwonderwoman



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Getting Back Together, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicwonderwoman/pseuds/atomicwonderwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He turns the keys and the engine comes to life. There is someone running, she is running after him, the gall of that woman, he thinks as he hits the gas pedal and takes off with his tires screeching.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>he needs to get away to get away to get away to get away from her from this from his life</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Would it really kill you if we kissed?” the sultry voice never left his head and although it’s been years, he can still feel those nice, long fingers on his cheek, like he had never left, never run away, never–"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	drive

“Makoto! Makoto! Makoto!”

 

He turns the keys and the engine comes to life. There is someone running, _she is running after him, the gall of that woman,_ he thinks as he hits the gas pedal and takes off with his tires screeching.

 

he needs to get away to get away to get away to get away from her from this from his life

 

“Would it really kill you if we kissed?” the sultry voice never left his head and although it’s been years, he can still feel those nice, long fingers on his cheek, like he had never left, never run away, never–

 

(and he wonders what it’d be like to fall down that hole once again, to break that last rule)

 

The sun is setting, painting the sky in orange and pink as he stops at the gas station to get a pack of cigarettes. He opens it and lights the first one he’s had in ages, the first one since he left, the exact same brand he used to smoke after every time they fucked. He inhales the smoke half expecting to cough but it’s like his body never forgot those years and he exhales, smoke disappearing before his eyes in the last rays of sun.

 

(they used to laugh and mock each other for falling into ‘men smoking after sex’ cliché when they were both lying in bed, holding hands and breathing smoke into each other’s mouth)

 

He stomps on the cigarette butt and starts the engine again, his tank full, mind clear and lungs screaming but satisfied at the same time. The sky is dark and he can see single stars shining, the moon large and bright, in its full moon glory, high on the sky. He drives out of the city, onto the empty road in complete silence. He wonders if _he_ lives where he used to, if _his_ door still bear the marks he left last time he was there, if _his_ floor still has that burnt spot by the bed where he nearly started the fire when the candle fell off the nightstand one night.

 

(if he let anyone else tie him up and fuck until he was reduced to pleas and silent whimpers)

 

When the night reaches its end and the morning sun shines right into his eyes, blinding him, he stops at some diner in the middle of nowhere. His stomach grumbles so he orders some breakfast and watered down coffee that tastes so bad that he spits it back into the cup. The eggs and bacon are more or less edible though, eggs greasy, slimy and cold while bacon is still undercooked on one and burned on the other side. But it’s food, he’s hungry and he doesn’t have much choice in the matter. He opts for energy drink instead of coffee, and it’s too sweet, but he feels more or less energized so he goes back to his car and drives away wondering if he still can stay without sleep for as long as he used to when he was still in college.

 

(more often than not they both pulled several all-nighters in a row in a room filled with cigarette smoke and smell of coffee keeping them up between studying and fucking)

 

He checks his phone but once he sees a dozen unanswered calls and messages from _her_ , he takes out the sim card and switches it with the one from his college days he kept active just in case _he_ ’d get over his pride and call. But that never happened and, looking back, he can easily see why – they were too similar and if _he_ felt the same way he did, then this was much bigger than pride and given that they were both too stubborn to admit that they may be more than just fuckbuddies, more than unwilling roommates, more than friends, more than just lovers –

 

he knew why he didn’t call himself.

 

(would it really kill him if they kissed)

 

As he gets closer to his destination, he starts to feel the anxiousness he didn’t realize he was still capable of feeling. It was different than his first court hearing, the first case he prepared, the first one he won – that time was filled with anticipation, uncertainty but also underlying calm – there was no way he wouldn’t win even at the very beginning of his career. It wasn’t like on the day he got married - back then he was bored and tired, willing to just bolt but being kept by his mother’s last wish to see him settled with that girl before she died. It was different when he was at the hospital, plugging out the machines that kept his mother’s body alive even though she wasn’t there anymore and he didn’t quite despair, not when it felt so good to finally be free.

 

(when she died he sent a single text from his old number but he never got a direct answer)

 

He drives into the city where he spent most of his high school and college years. He stops at the motel they sometimes went when they still lived in dorms and had to worry about roommates and curfews. He checks in their old room, that didn’t change despite all the years that passed since he last went there. He takes a shower, uses the same cheap soap he did back then. He brushes his teeth and runs his hand over the stubble he grew, then goes to the store to buy the razor and shaves the whole thing off, then takes off the suit and puts on jeans and his old hoodie from his college days, gift from _him_ he was supposed to throw away with all the mementos and toys that were left after they broke up which he got a few days later, neatly wrapped. He takes a long look at himself and, satisfied with what he sees, leaves the room and gets back to the car to his final destination.

 

(his heart is beating hard for the first time since they last fought)

 

(would it really kill him if they had kissed back then)

 

He stops at the door of the flat _he_ bought when he finished his studies and started working in the city, the same door he slammed the last time he’d been there. He braces himself, swallows and knocks on the door, smiling lazily. They open and reveal _him_ , standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth drawn into a smirk he knew too well.

 

“What are you doing here, Makoto?” _he_ asks squinting behind the glasses, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly but they know it's just a game, he's been expecting him to come for a long time after all.

 

“I don’t know” he lies and walks past him into the flat. He takes off his shoes, feeling _his_ calculating gaze on his back. It relaxes him, like his wife never did, brings back all the memories, all the feelings he suppressed for so long.

 

(and just maybe makes him doubt that leaving back then was a good decision no matter how important it seemed)

 

“I guess I want to know if kissing you would kill me” he says as he turns around and looks straight into the eyes he's been dreaming of long before his mother died.

 

He feels the fist connect with his face and closes his eyes, reveling in pain.

 

“Aren’t you funny, Mako-chan?” _he_ hisses. “You come to my house after no less than two years since you ran away on your mommy’s whim and cut off all the contact –” _he_ grabs his neck and presses him to the wall “– and now you think we’ll get back to where we ended?”

 

(he can feel the steel in his voice, the underlying threat and hurt, carefully hidden but he can still hear it resonate louder than anger)

 

(and though he knows he can fight and push him back the only thing he can focus on is how much he missed those fingers around his neck)

 

“What do you think, Shouichi? Of course I do” he grins back, wide and lazy but as genuine as it is possible for him and they both know it. “But I can acknowledge your need to punish me for this whole mess, Imayoshi-sama” he says cocking his head to the side and winks. “I've been a very bad boy, after all.”

 

“Oh, I will punish you –” Imayoshi replies in a low voice, the voice that could keep him up all night long, whether they discussed their studies or fucked. He smiles wider because if there’s any chance for punishment, forgiveness is on the table, “– but first I need you to say why you crawled right back to me, like we both know you were always wont to do.”

 

“You know exactly why.”

 

“But I need to hear it if you want me to even consider taking you back. Tell me – why did you come back? Why did you ditch everything just to be here? Why did you run once you got the chance? Why did you run to me?”

 

“I was bored.”

 

“Bullshit. Tell me the truth” Imayoshi whispers, biting on his ear. His breath is warm and his heart picks up rate at the sting. “Say the exact words I want to hear and you’ll be punished in all the best ways possible.”

 

“I missed you. I need you. I think I love you” he breathes when Imayoshi slides his free hand down his side, and his whole body shivers under Imayoshi’s touch.  
  


“Not good enough.”

 

“I love you, Imayoshi- _sama_.”

 

“Good” Imayoshi smiles and kisses him and all he can think is _finally_. It feels like a breath of fresh air, like everything he never (always) knew he needed, it feels like death and resurrection and fucking fireworks. His hands wander into Imayoshi’s boxers as the hand on his neck tightens and he closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

 

“At least for now” Imayoshi says when he lets him free and they stumble to the bedroom, tearing their clothes on the way and he feels fine, he feels–

 

(alive at last)

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading
> 
> as always kudos and comments really appreciated :)
> 
> my [ tumblr ](%E2%80%9Datomicwonderwoman.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


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